


spaces between us

by LinguisticJubilee



Series: can't run from myself [2]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Background Kíli/Tauriel - Freeform, Dis is amazing and everyone should love her, F/M, Flashbacks, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-28
Updated: 2015-03-28
Packaged: 2018-03-20 02:59:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3634134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LinguisticJubilee/pseuds/LinguisticJubilee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin pauses.  “You have to understand that what I am about to say is so uncomfortable for me that I would almost rather fight the white orc again than continue, but.  Dis.  You must be blind if you cannot see that Dwalin stares at you the way you stare at him.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	spaces between us

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to my fic [far across the distance](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3487889) from the perspective of Dis. It's told in flashbacks, so warnings for minor character deaths and the grief and mourning associated with them that, while we all know the story, are told as if they have just happened. 
> 
> Thanks to my [beta](http://waroftheposes.tumblr.com/)who "doesn't even like hobbit fic that much except for yours", and to Whitney Houston and Celine Dion, my muses.

_2946, Age 186_

“I don’t think we’re getting enough credit for this whole wedding thing,” Kili says from where he’s hanging upside down from a chair in their sitting room. Dis snorts, not looking up from the blanket she is weaving as a wedding present.

“I agree,” Fili says from his chair. “Bilbo and Thorin could have lived their entire pathetic lives desperately pining from afar if not for us.”

Dis silently agrees, but she knows better than to encourage her sons and their meddling. Dis is self-aware enough to note the irony in that sentence, but she moves on. Her meddling is needed; the boys will just stir up trouble.

As if to prove her right, Kili twists in his chair to look at Fili. “Should we try again? Put our matchmaking skills to good use?”

“Excellent idea! Who else needs a paramour?”

“Oh! Oh!” Kili nearly falls off the chair in his excitement. “Dwalin.”

Dis stiffens, the joke suddenly over for her. Both of her idiot children remain oblivious.

Fili straightens up, grinning. “Do you think he’ll relax a little when he’s in love? Calm down, smell the roses?”

Kili laughs and shakes his head. “He probably gets more intense. Growls about his One, gets twitchy when they’re not in the room.” They dissolve into giggles.

“Mother,” Fili turns to her, still laughing, “has our dear Dwalin ever been in love?”

“I would not presume to know,” Dis says icily, and both boys freeze at her tone. She stands up, all patience for weaving gone. “And I warn you to not say anything to Dwalin, lest you leave the conversation with less testicles than you had when you began it.”

She sweeps out of the room, darkly pleased at the way her skirt swirls around her, adding a severe emphasis to her words. _Has our dear Dwalin ever been in love?_ Shit, does she need a drink.

***

_2791, Age 31_

Dis lifts her sword, up-down-left-right, ignoring the way it strains her wrist.

“Uh...what are you doing?”

Dis lowers her sword and turns to glare at whoever dare interrupt her. It’s Dwalin, their distant cousin, the one who wears a stupid hat to disguise the fact that he’s balding even though he's younger than she. “I’m practicing,” she says acidly.

He scrunches his nose. “Practicing what?”

Is he stupid? “Sword fighting.”

“Like that?”

“Yes, like this. This is how ladies must handle a sword. We are too slight to wield it normally.” She turns away from him and resumes practicing.

“Yeah, that’s bullshit.”

She swings back around. “I will murder you!”

“Except not with that sword, because you’re holding it wrong. Look, whoever taught you is an idiot. Twirling it like that looks really pretty, but your opponent will knock it out of your hand faster than a dog pisses on a new tree.” He takes a cautious step forward. “I could show you the real way to hold a sword, if you promise not to murder me.”

Dis narrows her eyes. “Not today,” she agrees.

Dwalin smiles, looking ridiculous. “Let’s get started then.”

***

_2946, Age 186_

It is time for another of Thorin's appointments with Oin to evaluate his healing process. Dis insists on accompanying him to every one, otherwise the report back would be a surly-voiced _I'm fine_ , and Dis would never hear more on the subject.

Oin comes to Thorin’s bedroom and makes Thorin do silly exercises like touching his toes or standing on one leg while Oin follows behind with a tape measure. He records all the measurements in a log, and spends a few moments comparing them to previous entries. "All fine, Thorin," he says finally. "Keep on moving everyday like you have and you'll maintain this."

Both Oin and Dis stand up, the visit clearly over, but Thorin remains seated. “Fine?” He says, looking confused. “Didn’t I improve?”

“Oh, a little bit, I suppose.” Oin says, glancing back down at the book. “You’ve plateaued, like I said might happen the last time we checked in.”

“Yes, but—” Thorin glances quickly at Dis, then looks back to Oin. “I’m feeling much recovered since last time.”

Oin frowns. “I’m glad to hear it, laddie, but your range of motion did not increase.”

Thorin still looks confused. “I thought, with all of the changes in the past few months…”

He trails off, and Dis lets out a delighted laugh. “You’re talking about Bilbo!”

Oin turns to her. “Sorry, my dear, what did you say?” he says, putting the earhorn up to his ear.

“BILBO!” She shouts unnecessarily, just to see Thorin squirm. “Thorin’s angry the joy from Bilbo’s return hasn’t magically cured him.”

“I have been in less pain,” Thorin says stiffly, “and regardless of the cause it seems to me that should translate into better physical performance.”

“Well, it doesn’t,” Oin says cheerfully. “Any last traces of the mountainsleep left you, oh I’d say more than a year ago. Anything that’s happened after that is between you and your body.”

Dis is ecstatic. She has never been happier in her entire life. “It’s an illusion! Love has tricked you into thinking you’re hale.” She points an accusing finger at Thorin. “You were moping and pathetic and it made you focus on your injuries. Now Bilbo is here and you are having too much fun to be tragic.”

“I am not _tragic—”_

“Excuse me, Your Majesty, the King Brooder Under the Mountain? Thorin ‘please allow me a modicum of self-preservation’ Oakenshield? You spent two years convinced the person _you are now about to marry_ could never return your love, and I am supposed to not comment on how you are tragic?”

“I was _rebuilding_ a _lost civilization_ —”

“You were _crying_ about your _lost paramour—”_

The door swings shut behind Oin as he makes his escape.

***

_2858, Age 98_

Dis strides into Thorin's forge. "Brother," she shouts over his hammering, "I must speak with you."

"I'm busy," he calls we without looking up.

"I'm pregnant."

Thorin drops his hammer and stares up, eyes wide. "What?"

"I'm pregnant," Dis repeats, smiling shakily.

Thorin grins wide and bright. He moves to hug her before remembering he is covered in ash and dirt. "Forgive me," he says, scrubbing futily. "Please, Dis, sit." He grabs her elbow and gently leads her to a chair away from the fire, as though she were suddenly fragile. He kneels beside her. "Tell me everything. Are you healthy? Have you been eating enough? What about names? Do you know the sex, or is it too early?"

"Breathe,"she laughs, "before you do yourself a harm. I'm fine. The baby is fine, and yes, it is much too early to know the sex. We're thinking of Maiza, after Mother, or Fili, if it's a boy."

"Fili." Thorin looks lost, as though the thought that the baby might have a father has just occurred to him. "So it is Vili's, then."

Dis rolls her eyes. "Where else would it have come from?" she says, then immediately regrets it. There once was a time when the question would have had another obvious answer. They stare at each other, but since Thorin has always been a better person than she he doesn't say anything. She drops her gaze to her lap. "We are going to marry," she says softly.

Thorin doesn't speak for a moment. "You know, you are of the line of Durin. Any child you bear will be legitimate."

"I know that."

"And I will help you raise this child as though it were my own."

"I know that too."

"So there are more options than marriage, should you seek them."

"What are you saying?" she snaps, lifting her head up to glare at him. "Do you not approve? Do you dare tell me how to live my life?"

"Never, Dis!" he says, stricken. “Forgive me, I spoke all wrong. I meant the opposite. l mean to say that you should not feel pressure to decide any certain way. I will support you, whatever the path."

Dis smiles faintly and takes Thorin's dirty hand in hers. “I want to marry Vili," she promises. ''He loves me dearly. He is excited to be a father. He wants to sing the baby lullabies and teach it to dance."

Thorin nods. “Then that is what I want as well."

Thorin doesn't question her again. She is glad of it, and yet she feels as though she has more to tell him. Vili will be a good father, it is true, but he will also be a good husband. When she is around him Dis forgets about her troubles and loses herself in laughter and music. She loves him—not with her whole heart, for knotty pieces of it are tied up in Thorin and her lost family and her father who may yet live. But she loves Vili with the pieces her overloaded heart can spare, and trusts him to never add to her burdens. He will never leave her, because Vili is a musician and musicians do not go to war.

In the end, Dis is only half right. Musicians do not go to war, but mountain tunnels do collapse onto musicians. Vili leaves her all the same, before Kili grows old enough to remember him.

***

_2946, Age 186_

Tauriel shows up later that week to bring Kili on one of their usual adventures, but Dis waylays her to joining family lunch instead. The lass doesn’t have many relatives, poor soul, and Dis can’t imagine elf family gatherings to be loud or rambunctious. A little crazy family love is good for the heart, Dis thinks.

Afterwards Kili, Fili and Tauriel depart. Tauriel invites Dis along, but Dis declines. She knows the offer is genuine, but the young people will have more fun without her.

When did Dis stop counting herself among the young people? Fuck. The idea is so abhorrent that she steals Bilbo away from her brother and forces him on a walk to Dale. Today is one of those pleasant spring days that feel like summer when the sun hits your skin, and they walk slowly on their way.

"It was good to see Tauriel today," Bilbo commented idly. "You two seem quite close."

"Tauriel came to Erebor often to sit with Kili during mountainsleep. It was her idea to bring him on short trips out of the mountain, to feed his sense of adventure." Dis smiles at the memory.

"I confess to a little surprise, given the others'...misgivings about elves."

Dis feels a flash of irritation at the implication. Though she knows in her mind that Bilbo means no harm, Dis has witnessed too many sly glances directed at Tauriel to give him the benefit of the doubt. "Have you ever wondered, Bilbo, how dwarves in mountainsleep piss?"

Bilbo looks shocked. "I, I—"

"It's not pleasant, I assure you. We place a bedpan in position, but the metal is cold so they'll often roll away from it. We're aware of it and we plan for it, but our forethought alleviates nothing. With two dwarves in mountainsleep—three, in the beginning—we were changing sheets and airing mattresses at least once a day.

"Tauriel came for one of her visits just after Kili had wet the bed. ‘Here,’ I said to myself, ‘here is the moment when we will never see her again.’ I had thought she was sticking around for the novelty of it, a wounded dwarven lover, and there is no romance in a room that smells of piss. But Tauriel surprised me. She strode right in without a flinch and asked how she could help. We have this image of elves as snooty, you see, but they have their own understanding of class and Tauriel is at the very bottom. She is not a lass unfamiliar to the smell of urine.

"Tauriel held a bag for me while I undressed my son and placed his soiled clothes inside it. She came back the next day as though nothing had changed, because for her nothing had. Kili can find no one more worthy."

***

_2799, Age 39_

“Take me with you,” Dis says, staring down her father and brothers as they fasten the last of their armor. They are in their family’s tent, and the irony of it stings more today than ever before. Dwarves, forced to live above ground with nothing but fabric above them.

Thrain shakes his head. “You are too young, Dis.”

“I’m as old as Dwalin. Older, even.”

Frerin sniggers. “Yeah, but you’re a —”

“Finish that sentence, brother,” Thorin warns, “and you will not live to see Khazad-dûm.”

Frerin backs off, chagrined. Thorin places a hand on Dis’s elbow and leads her away to a corner. “Dis, I admire your courage,” he says softly, looking her in the eye, “but you cannot fight with us. You are young, which is not your fault. You are untrained, which you cannot be faulted for either. You’ve been kept away because you are a woman, and that is unfair. But these are things we cannot change in this moment, and I do not wish to lose you in a battle you are unprepared for.” Dis starts to speak, but Thorin cuts her off. “However, you already have a war you need to fight. You alone of the line of Durin will stay here in Dunland with our people. Should we fail at Khazad-dûm, you must lead them. You will need your courage then. Stay here. Take care of Mother. Protect our people. There is honor in that.”

Dis nods stiffly and Thorin kisses her on the forehead.

She walks with them to Grandfather’s tent. Thror emerges, adorned in all his battle gear. Thorin had attempted to persuade him to sell the heavy gold ornaments in his beard, but Thror refused. Today even Dis must concede that they add to his majesty.

The army is assembled in the front of their camp. Dis stands to the side as Thror addresses the company. Thror speaks but she does not hear it. Instead she searches the crowd for familiar faces, wondering if it is the last time she will see them. Thror’s speech is met with a great cheer and they set off in a march, armor glinting in the sunlight. Dis stays, watching them leave, when a figure suddenly breaks away and begins running back. “Dis!”

Dis squints. “Frerin?”

He reaches her and sweeps her up in a hug. “Forgive me,” he whispers in her ear. “I was nervous and I let my stupid out of my mouth.” He steps back so he can smile down at her. “You are the smartest of all of us, and so I forget that there are things you do not know.”

“Oh? Like what?”

“That I love you.” He tweaks her nose, smiling, and runs back to the army.

It takes two weeks for them to reach Khazad-dûm. It’s two weeks where Dis’s stomach is in knots as her grandfather’s advisors try to court her favor like she is a babe swayed by compliments and easy smiles. Her heart lays heavy as the healers tell her that mountainsleep will not save her mother. The sickness is in her blood, and anything that strengthens her will strengthen the disease.

They are the hardest two weeks of her life until Thorin's raven arrives. Dis reads it and hurls into her chamberpot. There is no one to pat her back and soothe her, and the thought makes her retch again.

It takes three weeks for the survivors to return. Thorin is in front, still holding the ridiculous log that saved his life. Dis abandons her post at the edge of camp and runs to Thorin and embraces him, so grateful this burden is no longer hers to carry alone. She releases him and looks to his side where Dwalin and Balin stand.

“Dis,” Dwalin says, his voice wrecked, “I should’ve—if I could—”

“Oh, hush,” she says, hugging him quickly. “I have lost too much family. You two will have to do as replacements. Understood?”

“Yes ma’am,” Balin says, corners of his mouth quirking. Dis gives him a quick hug too.

Thorin is crowned the next day, while Mother still feels well enough to leave her bed. Dis stands to his right and thinks she understands now the poisonous appeal of war. Others look at her brother and see Thorin Oakenshield, King in exile, but Dis can read the pain in his eyes and see the brotherless, soon-to-be orphan just as lost as his people.

Dis, standing on the dais next to Thorin, decides her brother was wiser than he knew when he said that her war was to protect.

Thorin will take care of Durin’s Folk. Dis will take care of Thorin.

***

_2946, Age 186_

Thorin paces nervously in his bedroom as Dis sits on his bed and watches him. It is his last day in this room, she notes with a smile, for tonight he and Bilbo will move into the renovated king’s rooms.

A good thing, for Dis wishes to have as little knowledge as possible as to what those two will do on their wedding night.

“Thorin,” she says, rubbing her hands on her temples, “do you think we could leave this room soon?”

“Yes, yes,” he says, turning to face her. “Just—two minutes?”

“We are already ten minutes late.”

“Oh no.” His face turns to horror. “Is Bilbo waiting? Does he think I have changed my mind? He can’t—”

“Bilbo is being well cared for, I’m sure, by Bofur and Ori. If your love could withstand the agonizing blunders you both put yourselves through to get here, I’m sure it can withstand a slightly delayed ceremony.”

Thorin’s mouth quirks. “I am almost ready. I just cannot get the wording...quite right.”

“Bilbo will forgive you for that. I, however, will not, because every minute we spend here dithering is another minute I lose on the dance floor later.” She swings her feet off the bed and stands up. “Have courage, my dear brother, that Bilbo loves you even if your vows are not,” she lifts her eyebrows, “quite right.”

He laughs softly. “The halfling has tolerated much worse from me, has he not?”

Dis chuckles and takes Thorin’s arm as they walk into the sitting room where Thorin’s wedding party is gathered. While a royal wedding feast is open to the entire kingdom, a Dwarven wedding ceremony is a private affair, with only family and close friends gathered. Bilbo, so far from the Shire and unwilling to have them travel regardless, has claimed the ‘Ur and ‘Ri families as his kin. Every Durin yet living has come to stand with Thorin, and Dis looks around in satisfaction at her family gathered, Fili and Kili, Oin and Gloin, Balin and Dwalin, and even Dain come up from the Iron Hills. Dis has spent most of her life believing such a sight was impossible, and yet here they are.

They walk as one to the ceremonial halls. At the sound of a gong, they enter through the left door as Bilbo’s wedding party enters through the right, and Dis can see Bilbo’s face go slack-jawed as he spots Thorin. The two lovers must step forward to the priest alone as the onlookers remain standing in the back. The ceremony is long and in Dis’s mind very boring, but it is worth it to see Thorin glance in awe at Bilbo, or watch Bilbo’s face scrunch in concentration as he recites the Khuzdul phrases.

In the very last part of the ceremony, the grooms must recite vows to each other. In arranged marriages these are the concessions families promise each other, but in marriages of love the vows can get more passionate, bordering on sentimental. Thorin, due to his higher position, must speak first.

He pauses briefly, looking at Bilbo. “I was practicing these remarks up to the last minute,” he says softly. “I wanted to give you something impressive, something perfect. However, as my sister reminded me, if impressive and perfect were traits you looked for in a husband, you would have given up on me long ago.”

The crowd laughs softly and Bilbo ducks his head. Thorin smiles and continues. “I was struck yet again how fortunate I am to have found a partner who is strong in all the ways I am weak. You are even-tempered when I am rash, and agitated when I sluggish to act. You make me a better King, a better friend, and perhaps the reason I failed at finding the perfect words is because words are inadequate to express the debt I owe you. There is nothing I could promise you now that could ever amount to what you have given me. All I can do is vow to love you, fiercely, endlessly, with everything I am.”

The family claps softly. Bilbo wipes a tear from his eye. “Thorin, that’s...Oh. Right. My turn. Yes.” He clears his throat. “Only, wait, no, I’m changing mine too, you great stupid lump. Do you know where I would be right now if you hadn’t stumbled into my life? I’d be alone, surrounded by books and silence. The only adventure for the day would be if cousin Lobelia would stop by and try to steal one of my mother’s doilies. And instead—well, I’m here, aren’t I? Standing in a room full of people of who love me for who I am. And I can go down to the range to throw knives with Nori or I can go up to the library and read poetry with Ori and at the end of the day, no matter which I choose, I get to come home to you. You gave me this, Thorin. You rescued me from that sad little existence and you gave me a family and a home and a whole _life._ I love you so much, Thorin, and you keep acting like it’s a great big surprise that I do. So that’s the vow I’m going to make to you. I am going to spend every day of the life we’ll spend together making you understand just how important you are to me.”

Bilbo’s cheeks are bright red and Thorin’s smile is radiant, and Dis tries to subtly rub the tears from her eyes. Dwalin nudges his shoulder into hers. “Saw that,” he whispers.

“Tell Thorin and I’ll kill you,” she hisses back, and he winks merrily.

After the wedding comes the public feast and Dis’s favorite part, the dancing. There’s something about moving in time with a dozen other beings, surrounded by bodies all laughing and rejoicing, that makes Dis feel alive deep in her bones. Thorin is Dis’s usual partner of choice, but he is occupied with all the euphoria of being a newlywed, so she asks Dwalin to dance instead. He consents and leads her onto the dance floor. Dwalin has always been a superb dancer, so when the music ends and Dwalin bows to her, she grabs his arm. “Oh, Dwalin, come on,” she begs, “one more dance, please!”

He smiles slowly at her. “Yes, ma’am.”

***

_2942, Age 182_

A rough hand touches her shoulder, and Dis realizes her vision has glazed over from staring at Fili’s sleeping face. She looks up at Dwalin, who’s staring down at her with pity she doesn’t really want at the moment. “Dis,” he says softly, “you haven’t left this room for five days. You need to rest. Take a bath and sleep in a real bed.”

Dis shakes her head. “I need to be here.”

“I’ll be watching over them, and Balin will be too.”

“They need me.”

“I know.” Dwalin crouches so they’re at eye level. “I know, and they’ll always have you. Just a couple hours. I’ll take care of them.”

“That’s not good enough!” She snaps, and she can see Dwalin recoil, hurt in his eyes.

“You called me family once,” he says quietly. “Why did that change? You didn’t want to marry me, Dis, but that didn’t mean you had to cut me out of your life. I could have helped with the boys, like Thorin and Balin. Made them toys, taught them to fight. But you kept me away. Well, Dis, I spent thirteen months watching their backs, and they watched mine. I love them, Dis, whether you want me to or not.”

Dis feels her exhaustion strip away any fight she had left in her. She stares at Dwalin, at the grim set of his jaw and the Khuzdul tattooed on his head. “Durin’s blood for Durin’s Folk,” she whispers.

Dwalin nods. “Durin’s blood for Durin’s Folk.” He stands and offers a hand to help her up. She takes it and lets him lead her her gently to the door.

Later, she falls asleep in the bath.

***

_2946, Age 186_

Bilbo and Thorin still join them for family breakfast every morning. Dis is glad of it, if only because Bilbo is the only other being she knows with as fine an appreciation for breakfast foods as she. The boys have arrived on time for once, and Dis knows she should have expected something was afoul when Kili turns to Thorin and asks, “Uncle, has Dwalin ever been in love?”

Thorin nearly chokes. He swallows violently as Bilbo gives him a good thump on the back. “Now why would I know a thing like that?”

Fili shrugs. “Because you’re his friend?”

“I am,” Thorin says testily, “but that does not mean we discuss our hearts as if they were the day’s weather.”

“I did not realize the question would bother you so much,” Fili says, frowning. “Why…”

Kili leans forward. “Did you and Dwalin court?”

This time it is Bilbo who chokes.

“No,” Thorin says angrily, “and I cannot imagine a more insulting notion.”

“Hold on,” Bilbo says, swallowing, “there’s no reason to abuse the poor fellow, just because—”

“Is there something wrong with Dwalin?” Fili asks, looking from Dis to Thorin to Bilbo. “Is that why no one wants to pursue him? Is he such a terrible suitor?”

“Someone will murder you in your sleep,” Dis says idly, “and I will not be able to determine who, as there will be too many suspects.”

Bilbo shakes his head. “Come, boys, you’re going with me on a walk to Dale before you give your uncle an upset stomach.” He shuffles them out of their seats and out the door.

Thorin turns to Dis. “Whatever is going on, I want no part in it.”

Dis rolls her eyes. “Nothing is going on. Your nephews have got it into their heads that they are expert matchmakers, and they want to try their skills out on Dwalin.”

“Do not tell me such a lie and expect it to stand. I saw you two at my wedding, though I tried to ignore it.”

“Please, Thorin, you know how I love to dance. Dwalin is the only dwarf who can keep up with me.”

“Then why were you staring at him as if he were a shooting star made just for you?” Thorin demands.

“We are friends,” Dis snaps. “I know it is hard to believe, Thorin Oakenshield, but things changed while you were sleeping off your wounds.”

Thorin sighs. “This nearly ruined us once. Do you not remember?”

“How could I forget?” Dis spits out. It is imprinted on her mind, the way she could not even bear to look Dwalin in the eye after everything had ended, the way her sword-arm suffered because she could not bear to face the training fields.

“We were all wrapped up in it. It was a fault line, splitting us all down the middle. All of us, you and me and Dwalin and Balin, even Gloin and Oin were affected. And now you have children, and I have a Company. If it breaks again, the damage this time will be even worse.”

Dis shakes her head. “There is nothing to break, Thorin. After I arrived in Erebor we learned to depend on each other because there was no one else. I do not confuse that with forgiveness.”

Thorin pauses. “You have to understand that what I am about to say is so uncomfortable for me that I would almost rather fight the white orc again than continue, but. Dis. You must be blind if you cannot see that Dwalin stares at you the way you stare at him.”

Dis looks away and runs a hand over her beard. “Does Bilbo snore?” she asks after a moment. “Is he a cuddler? He seems the type to me. Though I suppose anyone would cuddle close after you spend the night—”

“Fair enough.” Thorin raises his hands in surrender. “Should we talk of the trade negotiations with the Iron Hills?”

“Please.”

***

_2819, Age 59_

Dis runs all the way from lessons to the training fields. She had mistaken one tiny village in Gondor for another and her tutor made her recite the entire map for an hour. Dwalin has been waiting for their swordfighting tutorial. He used to go to lessons with her, but he was excused from them around a year ago. Dis, however, apparently “has potential,” and so must continue in the hopes that there will be someone in the House of Durin besides Balin who is fit to be a scholar.

She arrives and looks around, but doesn’t see Dwalin. Instead there’s another dwarf, older, with a bald head…

“Hey, asshole,” she calls across the field, “where’s the hat?”

Dwalin turns around and grins at her. “Someone kept telling me to stop pretending. So I did.”

As Dis gets close she can see that the top of his scalp is lined with tattoos. They’re so new the skin around them is still red, and she grabs his head to tilt it forward and inspect it. “Durin’s blood for Durin’s Folk,” she reads.

“I want to live my life by that,” he says softly.

Dis suddenly realizes her fingers are threaded into the hair at the back of Dwalin’s neck. She pulls to move away, but tilts Dwalin’s face up instead. They stare into each other’s eyes for a breathless moment before Dis leans forward and kisses him. His lips are chapped beneath hers, and she meant it to be quick, a lark between friends, but Dwalin’s hands come up to grip her waist and she pours everything she has pretended she doesn’t feel into the kiss.

“What the _fuck?_ ” She hears behind them and she jumps back, turning. Thorin is standing there, looking much the same way he did as a child when Frerin stole his favorite blanket and didn’t give it back. “How long has this been going on?”

“About two minutes,” Dis says breezily.

“It was just getting good when you interrupted,” Dwalin adds. They share a grin as Thorin groans. This is going to be fun.

***

_2946, Age 186_

Dis’s sons need to stop disappearing on her. Kili and Fili have vanished somewhere in this mountain, and while she would normally resign herself to never finding them, she actually requires them to _do_ something for once. A shock, she knows, which is why she’s scouring their usual haunts around Erebor. She turns a corner and sees Dwalin walking in the opposite direction. “Oh, Dwalin!” She stops him with a hand on his arm. “I’m desperate. Have you seen Kili and Fili?”

Dwalin inclines his head. “Kili, no, but I saw Fili head down to the training fields to stretch his leg.”

“Thank you, thank you,” Dis says and starts off in that direction.

To her surprise, he turns around and starts walking with her. “What did they do wrong this time?”

Dis smiles. “For once, they are completely innocent. I need to convince at least one of them to meet a caravan from Ered Luin at the entrance to Mirkwood.”

Dwalin raises an eyebrow. “Diplomacy? From Fili and Kili?”

“Not a good idea under normal circumstances, I agree. But this particular caravan is led by Frizza.”

Dwalin nods. “Good woman, Frizza. Would not have expected her to make the journey, though, not at her age.”

Dis shrugs. “Ered Luin is emptying out, and Fili and Kili are the only kin she has left.”

“And you.”

“Oh no,” Dis laughs. “She never quite forgave me for, ah, ‘trapping Vili,’ I believe she called it.” The memory still stings, though Dis tries to ignore it. Dis had been desperate for a mother figure at the time, and would have worshipped the ground Frizza had walked on if allowed to.

They walk out to the fields and Dis is saved from further talk on Frizza. Fili spots them right away and jogs over. “What did I do this time?”

Dwalin laughs and even Dis cracks a smile. “I need to speak to you and your brother. Do you know where Kili is?”

“No,” Fili says, looking confused. “I thought he was with you.”

“Oh, lovely, what is he lying about now?”

“No, Mother, really.” Fili’s eyes are earnest, and Dis has learned all his tells by now. He’s speaking the truth. “Aelfgar said he had to meet with him, so I assumed you would be there too.”

Dis looks at Dwalin and back to Fili. “That doesn’t make sense. Aelfgar has nothing to say to Kili, not that I know of.”

Fili shrugs. “I mean, it’s Aelfgar, right? He’s always angry about something _._ ”

Suddenly, Dis knows exactly what is happening. “Son of a bitch. How long ago was this?”

“Half-hour, hour at the most.”

Dis bites her lip, furious. “How dare he!” She turns sharply on her heel and walks out of the training room. Fili and Dis follow her out, but she doesn’t have time to explain anything to them.

Dwalin picks up the pace to walk beside her. “Dis, what’s wrong?”

“I need to murder an old man, that’s what’s wrong. Rip his knobbly little legs from his spine, stick his beard up his nose…” Dis keeps mumbling to herself as she storms to the conference room, Fil and Dis still trailing after her.

They reach the grand old doors and Dis pushes on them. Locked, of course. She pounds on the door. “Aelfgar! Let me in!”

The door opens and Kili is behind it. He has tears in his eyes and that’s all the confirmation she needs. “Aelfgar,” she growls, pushing past Kili to the dwarf standing at the far edge of the table. “You are through ruining the lives of the children of Durin.”

“Lady Dis,” he says haughtily, “I am protecting the children of Durin. Do you understand the sort your son has been consorting with?”

“If you are referring to Captain Tauriel, I count her as a dear friend. And even if she were a river rat with a bad case of ticks you do not have the right to speak to my son on courting and marriage.”

Aelfgar scoffs. “Someone has to protect this kingdom. With your history of spouses being so _unconventional_ —”

“You dare insult the father of your future king?” She pushes close to him.

She can see a flash of fear in his eyes, but he straightens. “Please, that musician looks like Durin reincarnate when compared to the hairless foreigner Thorin expects us to—”

Dis punches Aelfgar in the face. He yelps and staggers back, holding his nose. Dis hopes it’s broken. “You are done. It is over, Aelfgar. I let you spew your nonsense to Thorin because he has faced far worse than a stuffy, outdated Dwarf. But I cannot allow you to poison the minds of my children. The last time you faced me, I was weak and friendless, but you will not be given such free reign again. I know your game, Aelfgar, so let me be clear. These boys are protected, and I will see this branch of the House of Durin burned to the ground and Dain _fucking_ Ironfoot on Erebor’s throne before I see you crush the heart of another young person.” Aelfgar whimpers but says nothing. “Go. Now.”

Aelfgar rushes out the door, pushing Fili out of the way in his haste to leave. Dis blinks, remembering that her sons and Dwalin have been in the room the whole time. They are staring at her in shock. Her anger vanishes in a wave of anxiety. “I…” She rubs her knuckles, where they are sore from the punch. “That is...Forgive me.” She walks out the door, the others parting to let her pass easily. She needs to leave before her sons see her cry.

***

_2822, Age 62_

Dis walks into the council room in Ered Luin, feeling nervous. Aelfgar stands on her entrance, bowing slightly. “Lady Dis, I hope you are doing well.”

Dis cursties. “Master Aelfgar.”

He gestures to the table. “Please sit.” Dis sits and he continues. “Lady Dis, I called you here because word of last night’s indiscretion has reached even these old ears.”

Dis blanches. “I was not aware last night could be called an indiscretion.” She had a night of drinking with Dudda, nothing more, and if they had taken a stroll by Gloin’s house to peek at it, it was harmless. Dudda and Gloin are all but married at this point.

Aelfgar shakes his head. “That conduct might be permissible for a little girl, certainly, but not for the matriarch and second in line of the House of Durin.”

“Of course,” Dis says, lowering her head. She had forgotten, for a moment, that she is not a free woman.

“In fact, I think it is time you accept your proper station and marry.”

Dis looks up sharply. “Dwarves usually do not marry until they are one hundred.”

“Other dwarves might have that luxury, but motherless princesses do not. Sixty years old is considered a majority to marry, and you are sixty-two.”

Dis is speechless. She has barely begun to grow a beard. Surely this cannot be taken from her as well. Must she sacrifice these forty years of youth along with everything else?

“I have taken the liberty of looking into a few candidates, and while there are quite a few eligible young Dwarves in Ered Luin, I believe your best option is to marry Dwalin.”

“Dwalin?” This cannot be right. Dwalin detests politics. There is no way he would be involved in Aelfgar’s schemes.

“Aye, Dwalin. He has already proven himself in battle and, of course, is of noble lineage. He would strengthen the royal image in these trying times, and should the worst happen, he would make an excellent king.”

“Should the worst happen,” Dis says pointedly, “I would be queen.”

Aelfgar blinks. “Yes, of course,” he says slowly, “which is why you should marry as quickly as possible, so we can avoid that unpleasantness.”

Tears prick behind Dis’s eyes. She looks anywhere but Aelfgar’s face.

“I can speak to Dwalin tomorrow about the match.”

“No, no, please,” Dis says quickly, “you are right that this is an immensely important weight to place on my future husband. Please give me a few days to evaluate the candidates myself and ensure that one of them is worthy of the duty.”

Aelfgar inclines his head. “Very good, Lady Dis. I am impressed by your commitment to the seriousness of this issue. I will speak to you in a few days, then, and I hope you will leave foolish misadventures like last night’s behind you.”

“Of course, Master Aelfgar.” Dis stands up and, curtsying quickly, all but runs out the door.

She begins walking home in a daze. Yesterday she giggled in the street, head buzzing pleasantly, as Dudda threw pebbles at Gloin’s window. She wishes more than anything that she could go back to that moment. She wishes she could be a girl like Dudda and throw pebbles at windows for another forty years until she is ready to grow up.

“Dis! Hey, Dis!”

She turns, shaken suddenly out of her thoughts. Dwalin is running to catch up with her, and she feels like her insides might break apart. “Dwalin. Hello.”

He smiles as he reaches her. “Dis. I must speak to you about something important.” “Oh, um, Dwalin—” she stops, unwilling to continue. If she says she doesn’t feel well, Dwalin will want to know why.

Dwalin looks like he is about to bounce of out his skin. He glances around quickly, but the street is deserted. “Dis, my birthday is tomorrow.”

“I. Yes. I knew that.’

Dwalin grins. “I’ll be turning sixty. And so I thought. Well.” He takes a deep breath. “Will you marry me?”

Dis stomach plummets. “What?” she whispers.

Dwalin smile falters a little. “Marry me. Please, Dis.”

She stares at him. So this is what betrayal feels like. “Why?” she asks cooly.

Dwalin blinks, taken aback. “Because...because we should. We would be brilliant together.”

“I bet you think so,” Dis snorts. “Brilliant for your career, more like.”

“Dis, what? No.” He reaches for her, but she wrenches her arm out of the way.

“You want to be king, is that it?”

He stares at her. “Dis, you’re acting crazy.”

She straightens up. “What did you just say?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He takes a step back and runs a hand over his scalp. “But, Dis. I thought we were on the same page on this.”

She shakes her head. “I will never marry you.” She spits on the ground and turns away, running full out in the other direction.

“Dis!” She hears him call. “I love you!”

She keeps running. You’d think a marriage proposal would start with that.

***

_2946, Age 186_

Dis sits on a ledge of a bridge that doesn't lead to anywhere anymore. As hiding spots go it's not a very good one, but Dis doesn't really want to hide. She'll sit here long enough to collect herself then go and find Thorin or Bilbo and breathe in their comforting spirits. She just needs to find some explanation for her behavior that isn't "the adolescent inside me sought revenge."

She hears footsteps coming towards her and she turns to look. It's Dwalin. Pity. She's never been good at lying to Dwalin. He sits beside her with a heavy sigh. "So. Aelfgar. That explains why I got such an unexpected response all those years ago."

She shakes her head. “There is no one to blame for my conduct that day but me.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that. The pigheadedness of youth, surely we can blame that.” Dis snorts despite herself, and Dwalin flashes her a quick grin. “We can also blame my spectacularly awful oratorical skills while we’re at it. And no matter what you say, I am always going to blame that insufferable, crusty geezer.”

Dis leans her head back. “Fuck, it felt so good to punch him.”

“I’m envious of you for that. You have to admit how funny it is, though. That must have been the only time in your life you listened to that asshole.”

“What do you mean?” Dis asks, straightening up.

Dwalin shrugs. “You know, when he told you what a terrible idea it would be to marry me.”

The shame boils up from her stomach. “Dwalin…”

“What?”

She opens her mouth to speak but the words clog up her throat. Pride is a fault, she knows that, but at times it has been her only possession and today it will not allow her to speak of the wrong she has committed. She merely stares at Dwalin, desperate and pleading.

Dwalin, mercifully, seems to understand anyway. “Oh.” He snorts and looks away. “Aelfgar as my advocate. No wonder you refused.” He strikes the floor with his fist. “Fuck, damn it!” He swings back to look at her, eyes furious. “Did he tell you that I loved you like breathing? Did he mention how, when I was away with Thorin, I would lie on my bedroll and think of our swordfighting lessons? How I would stifle my laughter because Thorin would flay me alive if he knew what I was dreaming of? Did Aelfgar include my secret plan of building us a house in Ered Luin, where we would burn our terrible cooking in the kitchen and invite all our brothers over, but at the end of the day we’d kick them out and it would be us, just us, alone and at peace? Tell me, at any point did that pompous, festering turd of a Dwarf mention this?”

Dis covers her mouth with her hand, overwhelmed. It’s too much, the way this life has chewed them up and spit them back out bleeding and slightly soggy and still expects them to carry on living it. “I cannot have regrets,” she says, her voice thick with the effort to keep from crying. “That way lies madness. But I also cannot stop myself from returning, over and over again, to the same remorse, that you never knew that I loved you.”

Dwalin smiles, looking so damn hopeful Dis cannot bear to see it disappear. She leans forward, slowly enough that he could move away if he wanted. Instead, his smile grows more confident, and Dis sneaks a quick glance up to his eyes before pressing her lips to his. Dwalin reaches up to cup her face as Dis closes her eyes. His calloused fingers are rough against her cheeks and she loses herself in the feeling of Dwalin’s lips against hers. Dis has missed this. She hadn’t realized until now how badly.

Someone groans loudly behind them and they break apart to turn around. Thorin, Kili, and Fili have stopped in their tracks, varying looks of horror on their faces.

“Is there no escape from this hell?” Thorin asks desperately. “Must I always live in fear?”

Kili glances quickly between Dis and Thorin. “Wait,” Kili says, his voice an octave higher than normal, “this isn’t new? How long has this been happening?”

“One hundred and fifty years,” Thorin says, looking absolutely betrayed.

“Now that’s not fair,” Dis interjects, because there was a fifteen year period where she was happily married, thank you very much. No one seems to be listening, however, possibly because Dwalin’s knee is still pressed against hers.

Dwalin, for his part, looks like he’s going to bolt any second, so she places a hand on his thigh to reassure him. Thorin whimpers.

“We were wrong to ask questions,” Kili says, eyes wide. “I thought we learned not to wake sleeping dragons, right, Fili?” When he doesn’t get an answer, he turns his head. “Fili?”

Fili has been frozen to the spot, not moving this whole time. “I owe Bilbo so much coin,” he says morosely.

“Right, and that’s enough silliness for today.” Dis stands and brushes off her skirts. Dwalin scrambles to rise after her. She pauses for a moment to look at the dwarves assembled on this bridge, all looking to her for direction. “Thorin, please find Bilbo and bring him to our rooms. Dwalin, please do the same with Balin. We are going to have tea.” Thorin looks like he’s about to object, so she cuts him off. “We are of the House of Durin. We have faced dragons and orcs and constipated elven kings. We can handle a family meal as well.”

She strides down the bridge towards civilization, and grins in satisfaction as she hears four pairs of feet fall into line behind her. _Idiots_ , she thinks fondly, and her poor, scarred heart feels like it could soar.

 

**Author's Note:**

> come talk to me at [tumblrrrrrrrrr](http://linguisticjubilee.tumblr.com/)


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